Klaine Cookies
by farklesparkleify
Summary: Klaine fluff. Includes Kurt and Blaine making cookies!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this is my first story, I hope you enjoy it! :) Please review! :)**

**Disclaimer: I dont own Glee, but Santa, if your reading this, thats number one on my wish list! :)**

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><p>Snuggled together on the loveseat, I lay my head on Blaine's chest. I breathe in, and Blaine's familiar scent fills my nostrils. I lean into my boyfriend's chest, contented. Dad and Carole are getting the moving van, and Finn is at Rachel's, saying goodbye. Blaine and I opted to stay home and celebrate our last day together in Lima before we head off to New York tonight.<p>

"You know, Kurt? I have the biggest craving for one of your cookies," Blaine says kissing the top of my head.

"Well, then let's make some!" I say with a laugh, taking my boyfriend's hand and pulling him towards the kitchen. We instantly fall into our routine of me scrambling for ingredients, and Blaine perching on the counter and fiddling with the radio dial. I set the preheat to 425, and then begin to measure out the flour as Blaine watches. He finds the local Top 40 station, which at the moment is playing the latest Kanye West/Jay-Z track. "You know, you could help!"

"Nah, I'd rather watch you. You're so cute when you cook!"

I shoot him a look, and hand him a stick of butter. "Soften," I command. When he cocks his head in confusion, I add, "with your hands!"

"Oh," he chuckles and begins to suggestively knead the butter. I roll my eyes, letting the faintest hint of a smile play across my lips. Blaine laughs at my look of annoyance.

"I'm helping!" He points out, continuing to massage the stick of butter.

"Don't be getting too friendly now," I say with a smirk. "This other stick might get jealous."

"Kurt Hummel!" Blaine cries, raising his eyebrows. I laugh and hold out another stick of butter.

"The recipe calls for a whole cup of butter, Blainey dearest." He takes it, blushing. I laugh and turn towards the mixing bowl. "Could you pass me the sugar, sugar?" Blaine grins and passes me the bag. I accept it, and begin to measure out the right amount. Still sitting on the counter, Blaine continues to soften his butter with a slight, knowing grin.

"Am I missing something?" I ask. Blaine looks up at me.

"Oh no, not at all. I'm just really having fun with this butter!"

"Okay, as long as you're not plotting to elope with it," I say, jokingly. Blaine blinks. "I don't think I could be with a guy who'd marry a stick of butter over me," I add.

There's a flash of something unrecognizable in his hazel eyes, before he grins and replies, "Don't worry, I'd choose you over butter any day!"

"Gee, it sounds like you're trying to _butter_ me up." I wink and take the butter from Blaine, who begins softening the second, jealous stick.

While I'm waiting on the rest of the butter, I grab the beater from the cupboard and begin to cream the first stick of butter. We fall into a comfortable silence, just the sound of the beater and the newest Mariah Carey song playing on the radio. I turn around to ask Blaine for the next stick, and begin to chuckle when I see him lip-syncing into the butter. When he notices me, he comes down from his musical reverie and an embarrassed smile spreads across his mouth.

Putting my hand out, I say "I kind of need your microphone."

Blaine relinquishes the butter, and I accept it with a smile. "Time for your next job. You get to measure the vanilla." I say handing him the bottle and a teaspoon. Standing up, he comes over to me and the mixing bowl.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" he asks brandishing the bottle precariously.

"Oh, you'll be-" I begin before I'm cut off by the sound of shattering glass. I look to see Blaine holding an empty teaspoon a pool of vanilla and shattered glass spreading around his feet. When our eyes meet I can tell he's biting back a laugh. "BLAINE!" I cry, "WHAT HAPPENED?"

"It was an accident!" he exclaims, "I'm sorry." he adds in a softer tone, when he sees how angry I am.

"Blaine, that was _PURE _vanilla! Do you know how much that costs?"

I glare at my boyfriend who gives me the most adorable puppy dog look, "I love you." he adds tentatively.

I can't stay mad at him for too long, with a roll of my eyes; I go to the cupboard and grab a new bottle of vanilla. "You are so lucky I have this." I say taking the teaspoon from him, and measuring the vanilla-the right way.

"Clean this up." I sigh, and go back to my mixing bowl. As Blaine begins his search for a rag, I look down at my jeans to see I'm splattered with vanilla. "Oh, great." Now I'm all wet, Blaine," I huff. He lifts his head and his hazel eyes suggest-I don't even want to think about it. "_Don't even_," I groan, taking back my previous thought about how perfect a boyfriend I had.

Blaine comes over and apologetically wraps his around my waist. "Is there anything else I can do?" he whispers in my ear, his warm breath sending shivers up my spine.

Leaning into him, I reply, "You could tap this." He pulls away, just slightly, taken aback by my sudden forwardness, before leaning in closer than before and whispering in as seductive voice as he could muster, "Anytime."

I turn and wrap my arms around his neck, and lean in for a lingering kiss. Pulling away, I ask, "How about now?"

Blaine blinks, and stutters, "R-right now?"

I nod, biting my lip, "Yeah." I breathe.

"I-In the kitchen?" he asks incredulously, his voice raising an octave.

"On the counter." I reply, trying to sound as sexy as possible while fighting back a laugh. My boyfriend's eyes are practically bugging out of his head when I hand him the dry ingredients. "Tap this," I reiterate, gesturing to the dry ingredients, "into the bowl." I allow myself the laugh I've been holding back, as Blaine stutters.

Blaine turns an unsightly shade of crimson in utter embarrassment. I double over in laughter as he stands before me, sputtering.

"You... _demon!" _he spits, sending a barrage of chocolate chips in my direction. I gasp, and toss some leftover sugar back at him. He pinches flour, and I back away. "No—"

"Yes," Blaine says, devilish grin crossing his face.

"No!" I turn away, but not before Blaine hits me full in the front with the powder. "Blaine! This is—this is Armani!"

"Sorry," he says, and tosses more flour my way, for good measure.

"Come on, Blaine, let's hurry up and get these done," I lament, brushing what I can from the front of my sweater.

"Oh, fine." Reluctantly, Blaine takes the mixing bowl and begins tapping in the dry ingredients as I mix. We fall into comfortable rhythm, the only sounds being the hum of the KitchenAid, and the soft sigh of our breathing.

Suddenly, the preheat timer goes off, filling the idyllic silence of the kitchen with a shrill shrieking. Blaine jumps, nearly dropping the dry ingredients, and, with a pointed look, I mutter "Normally, I have the cookies on the pan by now." Blaine looks offended as I continue, "If you hadn't been distracting me this whole time, maybe it wouldn't have taken this long. Now hurry up and help me finish."

When we finally complete the dough, I scoop a finger-full and sample it. "Mmmm!" I sigh, "Perfection. Wanna try some?" I ask, holding out my finger.

"I'd love to," Blaine says, grinning warmly. Ignoring my extended finger, he leans forward, connecting our lips. His tongue traces my mouth, tasting for traces of cookie dough. Tilting my head to deepen the kiss, I allow his begging tongue to enter, and just like every other time he's kissed me in the past year, I can feel myself begin to lose control_. _

_BEEEEEEEPPPP!_ The oven timer goes off again, signaling its electronic impatience at our delay. Reluctantly pulling away, I mutter "Damn you oven!" Simultaneously, Blaine breathes, "Wow. That _was_ perfect."

I smile, lick the remaining cookie dough from my finger, and turn to wash my hands. Blaine follows, and we start to make quick work of the cookies, Blaine making slightly crooked rows, and I straight columns.

After Blaine places the first cookie sheet on the oven rack, I set the timer for eight minutes. As soon as the oven door shuts, the familiar introduction to Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream" fills the kitchen.

I turn to Blaine, grinning stupidly as he begins singing.

_You think I'm pretty, without any makeup on, you think I'm funny when I tell the punch line wrong._

He falls into the Warblers' dance to the song, a ridiculous excess of step touching with an occasional snap, which takes me back to the day we first met.

In retrospect, I really was a terrible spy.

There was no way he could have known what was to come, but it seems the song choice was intentional. And as Blaine sang, I swear it was meant for me.

By the time the song was done, I had fallen in love.

_You make me feel like I'm living a Teenage Dream, the way you turn me on I can't sleep, let's run away and don't ever look back._

I stand, watching raptly, as I had done almost two years before, but this time, as the song segues into the second chorus, Blaine grabs my hand. He pulls me into the center of the small kitchen, where he spins me around to the beat of the song.

Like the song says, my heart is racing as Blaine and I dance, the song building to a crescendo.

The final note sounds through the room, and Blaine and I break apart. I turn to check on the cookies, grinning to myself.

_ -Now that one goes out to all the couples feeling nostalgic tonight, but especially Kurt and Blaine from Lima. Congratulations…-_

_Huh? _I turn back around to see Blaine kneeling in front of me, holding a small black box. My heart races. "Blaine?" I gasp.

"Kurt…" He steadies himself, taking a deep breath. "I know this might seem sudden, but… I've envisioned this moment since the day we met, and I couldn't imagine it being with anyone but you. I know you're all about once upon a time, prince charming and the fairytale endings, but I don't need any of that, as long as you're there, standing with me. And now that we're starting this new chapter in our lives, I want to write it with you." And with that, he opens the box. "Kurt Hummel, will you be my happily ever after?"

I'm covered in flour, pants soaked in vanilla, and I'm fairly certain there are still chocolate chips in my hair, but in this moment, I have never felt more—exhilarated.

"Blaine—I—I—"

"Kurt, it's legal there… and we'll be together in college, we can get an apartment… You can think about it."

"No."

His face falls. "Kurt-"

"No. I don't need to think about it. Blaine, of course I… Of course I'll marry you." The words feel so foreign, so new, and so… right.

Blaine stands up, slides the ring onto my finger, and places his lips on mine—a chaste, nervous kiss, like the ones we shared when we first started dating. Bliss.

BBBBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP!

Pulling away, Blaine turns to glare at the oven "You know, for a timer, you have _**AWFUL**_ timing!" He scolds.

We laugh, and Blaine puts his arms around me. Just then, Stefani Germanotta's voice swells through the room, defining the moment.

_I'm gonna marry the night; I won't give up on my life…_

Lady GaGa's ode to both marriage and New York fills the contented silence, as I lean into Blaine.

Suddenly, the poignancy of the situation hits me. I chuckle.

"What?" he asks, looking into my eyes.

"Nothing… It's just we're literally riding off into the sunset together."

Blaine smiles and I close my eyes, letting the song fill the moment.

_I'm gonna marry the night._

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><p><strong>I've had the bestest time writing this with my LOVELY cousinbuddy HPontmercy. This story doubles as both a oneshot, and the prequel to her Marry The Night series, soon to be posted on her page. (H: "Check me out, bitches! :3" S: "Inappropriate!" H: "My sincerest apologies." S: You're just saying that to make yourself look better online. H: Honestly! Cross my heart and hope to lie! S: *glowers* H: "Hey…" S:… you know what, I'm not going to make you sit through the rest of the conversation. Just know it was quite interesting. H: "Or as I would say in my broken Spanglish, Muy interesante." S: WOW.) But yeah, check her out, she's perdy supermegafoxyawesomehot (H: Yay! I get an AVPM quote) Anyways….this was a three way collab, (Not that way! Get your mind out of the gutter!) Since HPontmercy's sister (my other, younger, cousin) supplied quips and grammar help (Yes, I do take advice from 12 year olds ) So, read, rate, review, what evs. I've been told to hype a story for my wonderful cousin, so I recommend HPontmercy's story, Magnus Bane Was A Surprisingly Terrible Kisser. Oh, this is also my first foray into the fanfiction universe. Thanks again to H and K for the help <strong>

**For the record, I was normal…curse you cousin buddy…. *insert scowl (and as prompted by K, British accent) here* (I also have a fantastic British accent…) until, the lovely H told me to be a supportive cousinbuddy and read her stories. (K: involving smut and Yaoi.(yumm)) S: is anyone else scared?**

**Sorry for the long A/N! (Not really, it was too much fun! ) Hope you enjoyed my story **


	2. Alternate ending

**Okay, so after such a positive reaction, I have decided to give you this...an alternate ending! YAY! So this is what HPontmercy joked about having for an ending, but...yeah. So thank you so much for all of your lovely reveiws, favorites, subscriptions. You all made my day :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...sadly.. :(**

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><p><em>-Now that one goes out to all the couples feeling nostalgic tonight, but especially Kurt and Blaine from Lima. Congratulations…-<em>

_Huh? _I turn back around to see Blaine kneeling in front of me, holding a small black box. My heart races. "Blaine?" I gasp.

"Kurt…" He steadies himself, taking a deep breath. "I know this might seem sudden, but… I've envisioned this moment since the day we met, and I couldn't imagine it being with anyone but you. I know you're all about once upon a time, prince charming and the fairytale endings, but I don't need any of that, as long as you're there, standing with me. And now that we're starting this new chapter in our lives, I want to write it with you." And with that, he opens the box. "Kurt Hummel, will you be my happily ever after?"

I'm covered in flour, pants soaked in vanilla, and I'm fairly certain there are still chocolate chips in my hair, but in this moment, I have never felt more—exhilarated.

"Blaine—I—I—"

"Kurt, it's legal there… and we'll be together in college, we can get an apartment… You can think about it."

"No."

His face falls. "Kurt-"

"No. I don't need to think about it. Blaine, of course I… Of course I'll marry you. "Under one condition," I pause, just long enough to let the confusion spread across his face before finishing, "Loose the gel."

With a laugh, he slides the ring onto my finger, standing as he does so, before pulling me into a sweet, loving kiss.

He pulls away all too soon, a sly smile crossing his face, "We've been threw this, you _love _the gel." He breathes.

With a small laugh, I connect our lips again, because, so what if the path is a little crooked, me and my (slightly over gelled) Prince Charming are riding off into the sunset on our way to happily ever after.

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><p><strong>So what did you think? Was it up to par without HPontmercy's input? So I have a couple of story ideas in mind, I cant make any promises about posting times or anything, but review and tell me if you would be up to reading more of my writing :)<strong>

**Thanks again for all the positively amazing comments, and favorites, and subscriptions, you made my day! :)**


	3. Calzones

**A/N: Okay. So, I know I said there would be kind of a follow up story for Klaine Cookies called Marry The Night, but the thing is, H has like 6,000 fic ideas that kinda took over her mind, so it looks like that story probably isn't coming. HOWEVER, I had this written for a part of that story, but since it's not coming I shall just add it here. Hope you enjoy :) R&R please :)**

**Disclaimer: Sadly every thing you recognize is not mine :(  
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><p>"Hey Kurtsie." Jeff smiles as he barges into the kitchen, plopping himself onto a bar stool.<p>

"What're you making us for dinner?" Nick asks an identical smile on his face as he plops onto the stool next to Jeff.

"I'm staaarrrvvinngg!" Jeff adds drawing out the word as if the longer he says it, the hungrier he is.

"Wha…What are you…" I stammer, incredulous, at the sight of Jeff and Nick strolling into the kitchen of the tiny, cramped studio flat Blaine and I shared.

"We've come to visit you, Kurtsie," sing-songs Nick, as Jeff spins on his bar stool, placing the secret—or so I thought—key on the counter as he swivels past it. "Mind if we make ourselves at home?"

"Seriously… what are you doing in New York? I thought you guys were all back in Ohio!"

"Well, it's Christmas break," Jeff states, stopping his incessant spinning for a second, "and we hadn't heard from you guys in a while."

"A week," Nick clarifies. "That's how long we had to go without our Kurtsie-pie or Blainey-boo!"

"And besides," Jeff cuts in, "We didn't want you to keep all the glitz and glamor of New York to yourselves." The sarcastic tone and pointed look around the tiny flat tell me he's unimpressed with Blaine and my starving-artist situation.

"Who told you you could just show up?" I ask, enraged that my plans for a fun, decidedly low-budget evening with Blaine would be ruined.

"This key, hon. You told me where it was when you told us your address—"

"In case we wanted to visit," Jeff finishes, cutting off the darker-haired boy.

"Why did we tell you where that was?" I mumble, more to myself then anyone, but of course, Nick hears, for he answers, "Because you love us." With his best faux innocent smile. Rolling my eyes, I call, "Blaine! We have company!"

"So, what _are _ you making for us, Kurt?" Nick inquires again.

"We're making calzones, but you have to make your own." I reply quickly, increasingly annoyed that they are ruining my plans. With all that's been going on lately, Blaine and I have hardly had any time to ourselves. Now is not the time for two of Dalton's resident troublemakers to show up halfway across the country, uninvited.

"Geez, Kurt, why so… _bitchy?_"

I flash Jeff and Nick my best 'bitch, please._' _glare.

"Why do you think?"

"Ouch, Kurtsie, that hurt." Nick whines, clutching his heart in mock suffering.

"Can't we just stop in to see our favorite Warbler buddies?" Jeff asks innocently.

"Yeah Kurtsie. Can't we just stop in to see our favorite Warbler buddies?" Nick echoes. They both have these identical pouts on their faces; I really want to not be mad at them, but I can't say I haven't used the puppy dog look to my own advantage before. Though no-one—and I mean no-one uses it as effectively as my fiancée.

Luckily I'm saved from replying for said fiancée chooses this particular moment to walk in, towel clad, hair dripping from the shower, "What guests? I didn't invite—" he begins, only to cut himself off when he catches sight of Nick and Jeff. "Hey Nick, Jeff. To what do we owe this pleasure?" he asks politely, his dapper side coming out to play, despite the look of confusion painting his features.

"Apparently, they wanted to pay a visit to their favorite Warbler buddies." I explain before either Jeff or Nick can speak.

Raising his eyebrows, Blaine just says "Oh," before asking "Are they staying for dinner?"

"Apparently so." I sigh.

"They" Jeff begins gesturing to himself and Nick, "are sitting right here!" he finishes, sounding utterly exasperated.

"They," I emphasize in the same tone as Jeff, "Weren't invited."

"Touché." He complies after a moment.

"Anyway, Blainey dear, why don't you go put some clothes on, and we can make calzones." I say, before I can really think about what I'm saying, then add, "Well, I never thought that sentence would ever come out of my mouth." This earns a chuckle from Blaine and some weird looks from Nick and Jeff.

As Blaine walks back down the hall, I turn to the fridge and begin grabbing the ingredients, all less than desirable, but they would have to suffice on our limited budget. Pulling out the pizza crust (cheap) and three different bags of cheese (on sale) and setting them on the counter before heading to the cupboard to get the flour and tomato sauce (did I mention we've been cutting coupons?).

"I don't know how to make a calzone." Nick states, as if stating the sky is blue.

"Well then it's a good thing I do." I reply, as I set the Ragu on the counter.

"No need to be mean Kurtsie." Nick pouts at my sarcastic tone.

"Sorry." I say, taking a calming breath, "I'm just a little stressed. Forgive me?"

"Of course." Nick smiles, "Now commence teaching me the fantabulous art of calzone creation." He adds with a grand gesture of 'Forward,' raising his fist to the air.

"Oh yes. Please do." Blaine chuckles as he walks back into the kitchen, now wearing a black V-neck and light-wash jeans.

"Oh, hush you." I chide, mock-hitting Blaine across the bicep. Walking back over to the pizza crust, I split the dough into fourths, and begin rolling them into balls. "Okay, so the first thing you do is grab your balls." I say, picking up one of the four, "I find it helps to kind of jiggle them a little as you work. Anyway, as it dries out, you'll just want to dip it in the flour," I explain, rolling my ball in the flour before going back to needing it. "So just keep massaging and shaking your balls, and try to get them as big as you can-"I pause, only to see Nick and Jeff exchanging incredulous glances, and Blaine trying to hide a smile, and failing. "What?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Love, do you even hear what you're saying?" Blaine asks behind a giggle.

"Yeah, I just said you should grab your balls-oh." I say, realization dawning. "You all need to get your minds out of the gutter!"

"Oh Kurtsie." Jeff smiles as he speaks in a tone generally used for three year olds, "You're so cute."

"You still think we can change." Nick adds in the same tone.

"You should have learned by now," Jeff begins.

"Our minds are so far in the gutter," Nick continues.

"They're practically the filthy hobo who lives in the gutter." Jeff finishes matter-of-factly.

Rolling my eyes, I seem to do that a lot more around Jeff and Nick, I restart my explanation, "Okay, so grab your balls, _of dough, _and begin to massage them." I say, taking two fingers and pounding the dough. "It helps if you dip them in flour, and then kind of jiggle them," I instruct as I dip the ball into the flour before picking it up, holding it between two fingers, and jiggling the dough. "And then you just massage and jiggle the dough until you get it to a large enough circle to work with." I finish, as I continue with my massage-massage- jiggle-massage pattern.

"So basically," Nick begins, a chuckle in his voice that tells me this will be a very hobo-esc comment, "we should grab our balls, then go on to massage and jiggle them, and when we finish, they should be big and covered in white stuff?"

"Well, the white stuff has a name," I begin, "which is FLOUR." I add slightly louder when I see the look on Jeff's face suggesting another hobo comment. "But yes, that's basically it."

"Sounds easy enough" Nick says, before beginning.

Once everybody has made their crusts, with minimal hobo comments thrown in, I explain how you simply spread on the tomato sauce, and cheese, before folding them up and putting them in the oven. After everyone has theirs done, I pop them in the oven, setting the timer for 13 minutes.

"Thanks Kurtsie." Nick smiles once the calzones are in the oven.

"Yeah, thanks Kurtsie." Jeff mimics.

"For what?" I ask confused.

"For teaching us the fantabulous art of calzone creation." Nick states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh." I laugh, "Anytime."

"You know, our T.V. is set up in the family room," Blaine begins, "there are over 1000 channels…" he finishes, but Nick and Jeff have already left the room.

Closing my eyes, I inhale the peace that has settled over the kitchen, "Ahh. Quiet." I sigh, before Blaine is behind me, arms around my waist. "Hi." I breathe.

"No time for hellos. They'll be back before we know it." He jokes. With a laugh, I turn and attach my lips to his. When we pull away, he breathes, "Well that's an okay hello."

"I'm glad to hear it." I giggle. "Now where's mine?" I joke, but before I know it, our lips are attached again. "You're right, that is an okay hello," I begin when he pulls away, "Too bad I was looking for a great hello." I add, turning to wrap my arms around his neck, I lean back in for one more kiss.

And this is what a kiss should be, all loving and sweet and, "Better?" Blaine breathes.

"Much." I reply, resting our foreheads together.

"I'm glad."

"Mmmhm. Me too."

"Love you." he smiles.

"You too." I smile back, and we drift into our comfortable silence. Just the sounds of our breath, our quick kisses, and the softly murmured "I love you"'s to quietly fill the air.

"You know," Blaine begins after a few minutes of quiet, "I'm perfectly willing to help you practice your calzone making skills tonight," the smile spreading across his face a true hobo-esc smile, "or any night." He adds as an afterthought.

"You know," I begin, "for such a dapper young man, you have some incredibly UN-dapper thoughts. In fact, one might call them, hobo thoughts."

"Are you calling me a hobo?" He asks.

"As a matter of fact," I sniff, "I am."

"Sure…" Blaine grins softly at my look of annoyance.

"Kurt. We had to use generic sauce. And everyone knows Ragu is the only way to go. We're both hobos."

"I am not a hobo. You're the only hobo here."

"But at least I'm your hobo and you love me?" Blaine asks, leaning in for another kiss.

Stopping him with one finger, I give him a watered-down version of the 'bitch, please.' look I'd given Jeff and Nick, before clarifying, "I, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, do NOT kiss hobos." And cue the puppy dog look. And how in the world he manages to still have the most adorable pout with a finger over his lips I have no idea, but that is just unfair. I murmur removing my finger, "Hobos," I begin, leaning in as I speak, "do not get puppy dog looks," I finish as our lips collide.

The kiss has only just begun, when, "!"

"Every time!" Blaine exclaims, "Why do our timers ALWAYS have such bad timing!" He adds exasperated.

I barely have enough time to chuckle before the twin cries of "FOOOOOOOOOOODDDDD!" come from the living room, and Jeff and Nick come dashing into the kitchen.

"…Hey, Blaine, you lied about the 1000 channels. You had like 4…" announces Jeff as the troublesome twosome speeds into the kitchen.

They pause for a minute, taking in our position before Nick asks, "Are we interrupting something?"

With a chuckle, Blaine replies, "Nothing that wasn't already interrupted." He relinquishes his hold of me, though I can tell it's with reluctance.

"OUCH! HOT!" Nick hisses.

Turning around, we see that our genius friend has decided taking a pan out of the oven with your bare hands is a splendid idea. "Yeah, ovens tend to do that to pans." I laugh, "Did you ever think of a hot pad?" I add, as I _with a hot pad, _remove the pan from the oven.

"No…" he replies sheepishly, earning a laugh from practically everyone.

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><p><strong>AN: Hope you enjoyed the story :) Reviews are LOVE!**


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